


Let It Bleed

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING: Brief, superficial description of decapitation. Someone had an accident with power tools.</p><p>Written as part of the 2014 Dean/Cas Fic exchange :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Bleed

Part 1: Fresh Blood

_Buzz_

Dean rolls over in bed and groans at his pager. The little black box shone brightly and intrusively against his closed eyes.

            _BUZZ_

“Dammit.” Dean opens his eyes and blinks rapidly to bring the offensive screen into focus. Being the new surgeon at the hospital meant he got most of the late-night E.R. pages, which got old really fast. The pager’s screen read “ _C. ORANGE: 6_. _”_

_Shit. Six? Really? People in Seattle never managed to do that much damage to each other in one night._

            A Code Orange was Dean’s least favorite type of page: it meant that there was an external source of “massive casualties,” generally more than 3 people in one place. In this case, six Kansas City idiots had managed to wound themselves severely enough that they all needed immediate medical attention. Dean could only hope that the EMT’s got to them quickly.

            On the other hand, there was a part of his mind that wouldn’t care if the EMT’s took their time. It’d give him more time to get dressed and drive to the hospital. He lived close enough, but the 3 A.M. adrenaline rush never kicked in until he was sliding into the yellow trauma gowns and rushing out to meet the backside of an ambulance. Getting there was the hard part.

            Nevertheless, he slid out of bed and into the closest pair of scrubs he could find, shaking them out of their ball on the floor. Dean pulled an old sweatshirt over his head and half-jogged out the door to his car, immediately waking up a little more when harsh February winds slapped his face. The Impala’s already-shoddy heat system had been broken for a few days now, so he was in for a very unpleasant drive to work.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

            “Gooooood morning, Winchester!” A far-too-happy drawl greeted Dean as he entered the E.R.’s back door.

_And I didn’t think this call could get any worse._

“It’s still dark out, Lucy, I don’t think this counts as morning.”

            “Sure it does! The clock says A.M., doesn’t it?” That happy drawl belonged to Lucifer Goodwin, a third-year cardio resident who always spoke with an annoyingly pleasant voice with a strangely neutral expression. He always showed up at the perfect time to make Dean’s skin crawl.

            Dean flipped him off and made for the ambulance bay, pulling a trauma gown on and joining the yellow sea of similarly gowned doctors outside. It was a few moments before they heard sirens wailing in the distance. Once the sound of those shrill wails came through into the bay, everyone perked up. Idle chatter dwindled and everyone tensed like runners at a starting line. Dean pushed his way to the front of the pack, hoping to get first pick of the patients coming in.

            “This is the best part of being in the pit, huh?” A young resident elbowed Dean in the side, smiling widely. Dean recognized her as Anna Milton, the tiny redhead who transferred to KC General only a few weeks before Dean did. They bonded over their being the “new kids” in the yard quickly, as Anna was just about as bad with new people as he was. She was young and, as he Dean eventually found out, quite feisty when she felt comfortable. They got along well, and Dean enjoyed having one person he could call at least a casual acquaintance at the new hospital.

            “It doesn’t suck, shortstack.” He elbowed her back with a forced smile. “Although it would be nice to have some light that isn’t from floodlights.”

            Anna hummed in agreement. The sirens were getting louder and Dean could see the lights of an ambulance coming through into the bay and started towards it as soon as it swung around so the back doors faced the hospital. A second ambulance wasn’t far behind, and within a few seconds the whole bay was full of bright headlights and the E.R. doctors swarmed in like ants. Dean made a beeline for the first ambulance that came into the bay, calling out to the short EMT who jumped out of the front, “What do we got?” Dean didn’t recognize the EMT, which he only registered as odd for a moment before the EMT started talking.

            “17 year old female, left arm severed by what looks like an unfortunate run-in with a power saw. Detached just above the elbow, we were able to recover the entire limb and she was stabilized and sedated in the field.” He pulled the doors open and Dean stepped aside to allow the gurney to roll out. The girl was pale, but she looked good, given the circumstances.

            “Take her in.” The short EMT began to roll the girl away as Dean turned his attention to the interior of the cab. “Where’s the rest of her arm?”

            The second EMT jumped out of the cab lithely with the arm on ice secure in his arms. Dean took the appendage from him, briefly looking up to thank him.

            _Woah. They don’t make ‘em this pretty in Washington._

            “Uh, yeah, thanks for, uh, the arm.”

            The attractive EMT smiled and said something in response that Dean didn’t quite understand as he turned and ran after the gurney holding the arm’s owner.

            _Good one, Dr. Winchester._

That was all the attention he could focus on the pretty EMT at the moment – there was a severed arm in his possession that someone else really needed, so Dean ran (gingerly) into the E.R. to find the young girl whom it belonged to. He’d be lying if he said the EMTs lithe body and pretty face didn’t stick in the back of his mind.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2: My Bloody Valentine

            “Dude, I’m telling you, I _definitely_ have enough Jello for this. It’s gonna be great.”

            Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don’t doubt the size of your stash, Gabe, but are you sure it’s a good idea?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “It’s just that I don’t think you have the money for that many strippers. In fact, I _know_ you don’t have enough money. We get paid the same and I couldn’t afford it, therefore, you can’t.”

            “I’m gonna make it work, bro. Just wait. It’ll be _awesome._ ”

            Cas laughed, his response cut off by the loud, electronic ringing of their radio alarm. They both sighed.

            “It’s too early for people to be getting themselves in trouble,” Gabriel grumbled. “I got this one, brother, you go start the rig.”

            Castiel nodded, heaving himself up and making his way back to the ambulance bay. He was silently grateful that Gabriel had volunteered to answer the 911 dispatcher’s call—he was always slightly anxious that he’d write down the address wrong and they’d end up at the wrong place. Plus, the guy they usually had running things at 2am was generally a jackass in some way or another. His name was Azazel and the 911 folks had put him in place a little over two months ago. For some reason, Azazel had instantly decided that he didn’t like Cas, which quickly became a mutual feeling. Their exchanges were usually curt and occasionally vicious.

            Gabriel jogged out into the bay and jumped into the driver’s side of the rig next to Cas. “Six people got friendly with some power tools.” They flew out of the bay, followed by a small handful of ambulances. “We’ve got some severed limbs, some deep gashes, you know, the standard. I’d love to know what a family of six was doing with power tools at…” he flipped the rig’s clock on brighter, “2:42am.”

            Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. I suspect it involved the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol. Maybe you’ll be able to ask someone when we get there.”

            Gabriel laughed. “I doubt it, bro, but I’ll try.”

            The rest of their short ride was spent in silence as they wove through twisting suburban roads, which were thankfully empty due to the absurd hour of the morning. Quiet Kansas families didn’t do a lot of driving around 3am.

            Expect, it seemed, for the family that the flock of ambulances was heading for currently. They stopped outside a petite house at the back of a cul-de-sac that already had two police cars parked by the mailbox. There was one officer waiting at the end of the driveway waving his arms furiously at the squad.

            Gabe swung the rig around, expertly dodging everyone else to back up towards the house. He always drove like that—he said it made their return trip to the hospital quicker, but Cas never really saw a purpose to it other than the fact Gabe liked to show off how well he could drive the rig.

            They jumped out simultaneously, Cas grabbing a first aid and respiratory kit and handing Gabe an oxygen bag and defibrillator. They followed the cop around to the back of the house where six people were in various states of dismemberment; there were two older adults with deep gashes on their leg, and one of them had her foot hanging at a strange angle, three teenagers covered in blood and clutching digits, and one teenage girl who was unconscious with half of her left arm laying about three feet behind her. She was the closest, so Cas knelt on the grass beside her and began taking her vitals. Gabe took her severed arm and made for their rig—they needed a gurney.

            Cas rode in the back of the ambulance on their way to KC General. He always liked sitting with the unconscious ones—they didn’t panic, scream, or otherwise become hysterical and need someone with a bedside manner. He and Gabe had eventually developed an unspoken rule, much like the one they had about who would answer when the 911 dispatchers called. If a patient was unconscious, Cas would sit in the back and Gabe would drive. If the patient was awake and vocal, Gabe would sit in the back and try to keep them from hyperventilating while Cas drove.

            A few moments later, the rig jerked to a stop.

            _Ah. We’re here._

            Cas could hear Gabe’s voice rattling off the girl’s stats, growing closer as he came around to the doors. They swung open and Cas tensed to jump out after the gurney, but froze when he saw who was waiting outside.

            _Woah._

The doctor waiting to receive the girl was…attractive, to say the least. Cas had never seen him before, and the name _Dr. Winchester_ embroidered on his lab coat was unfamiliar, but Cas couldn’t shake the thought that he wanted to get to know this guy better. Gabe began to pull the gurney out, and Cas was only broken from his trance when Dr. Winchester’s bright eyes met his. Cas scrambled to follow the gurney and hand off the arm so it could be reattached as he slid out the back of the rig. He handed off the appendage with what he hoped was a small smile and not a grimace, and received a stuttered thanks in response.

            “Of course,” he answered, allowing his eyes to linger on Dr. Winchester as he hurried away into the emergency room.

            “C’mon, Cas, let’s go! You can gawk at pretty doctors later.” Gabe winked and clapped Cas on the shoulder as he made his way back to their rig.

            _Later. Definitely later._

           

 


End file.
